


bare

by lazyfish



Series: Genuary 2021 [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29001300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Hunter has a tradition of getting tattoos; this time Fitz comes with him.
Relationships: Leo Fitz & Lance Hunter
Series: Genuary 2021 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087955
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	bare

“Are you really sure you want to do this, mate?” Hunter asked as he and Fitz ducked out of the car. Hunter clutched the folio with their tattoo designs and contracts tightly, reassuring himself he had in fact remembered to bring all the necessary documentation. Fitz had a similar folder, though his only had the tattoo he had designed for Hunter and nothing else.

“Just because I’m getting a new tattoo doesn’t mean you need to get one too,” Hunter added.

“You’re getting a tattoo for _me_ ,” Fitz huffed. 

“Yes, I think I remembered that bit.” Hunter grinned. “It’s tradition, Fitzy, just roll with it.”

“I don’t understand why you have a tradition about getting tattoos,” Fitz grumbled. He locked the car and they began walking down the street towards the tattoo parlor.

Hunter’s face fell, and Fitz halted. “Alright?” Fitz asked softly.

“I… it’s not a tradition for a good reason,” Hunter said finally. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Fitz hesitated before accepting the answer, and the pair continued walking at a slightly more subdued pace.

“I’m doing this because I want to,” Fitz said when they reached the door to the parlor. “I want you to know that.”

“Of course I know that,” Hunter scoffed. “I just wanted to make sure. They’re awfully permanent, you know.”

“I know,” Fitz said, exasperated. “But I trust you not to make me put something awful on my body forever.”

“Do you, now?”

“ _Hunter_.”

“I know, I know.” Hunter muffled a hand through Fitz’s hair. “I’m not sure I trust you, though.”

“Oi!”

“You support ManU, mate, there must be something wrong in that little genius brain of yours.”

“Never mind. I’m not getting a tattoo with you,” Fitz said, feigning turning around before Hunter caught him with one arm. With the other he swung open the door to the shop, the bell jingling happily to announce their presence.

“I already opened the door, no going back now!” 

The employee behind the counter looked at them, amused, as Hunter shoved Fitz into the parlor. “You know I don’t give tattoos to people who don’t want them, right?”

“I want the bloody tattoo!” Fitz said, dodging out of Hunter’s grasp and throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Where do I sign?”

“You’re my four o’clock, I’m guessing?” the woman asked.

“Yeah. I’m Hunter, we spoke on the phone.” Hunter extended his hand for a shake. “That’s Fitz, he’s the friend we talked about.”

“Ah, the virgin,” the woman said with a nod.

“You told her I was a virgin?” Fitz hissed.

“It’s a _tattoo term_!” Hunter shot back, socking Fitz in the arm. “You don’t have any other tattoos, do you?”

“No,” Fitz answered sheepishly. 

“It’s fine, people make that mistake all the time,” the employee said, obviously intent on making sure another scuffle didn’t break out. 

“We’ve got the rough designs for you,” Hunter said, pulling his paper out. “This one’s going on him.”

“And he’s okay with it?” 

“We made a bet,” Fitz grumbled. “We get tattoos without seeing what the other designed.”

“It didn’t start as a bet,” Hunter reminded him. At the beginning it was just supposed to be Fitz designing the tattoo for Hunter, nothing else. It had spiralled thanks to a couple of well-timed (or ill-timed, depending on who you asked) jokes and Fitz’s latent desire to finally get inked.

“As long as neither of you is going to sue me,” the woman said.

“We’ll sign whatever,” Hunter assured her. “Promise.”

“Follow me back, then.”

Hunter volunteered to go first to give Fitz time to chicken out, though he wouldn’t admit as much. Fitz had said the tattoo would fit nicely on Hunter’s inner arm and the artist tweaked his design with that location in mind. Whatever design Fitz had chosen must’ve been fairly refined, because it wasn’t long before they were ready to transfer it to his skin.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” Fitz asked as the artist pulled out the tattoo gun.

“Everything hurts,” Hunter deadpanned. “I’m dying. Right now, Fitz, I’m dying of pain.”

Fitz huffed. “Don’t be so dramatic. If you don’t want to answer my question you don’t need to be a prick about it.”

“Either way you’re going to be mad at me,” Hunter pointed out. “Either I say it hurts and then you gloat because it didn't hurt at all or I say it’s fine and you whine because _it’s not fine, Hunter!_ ”

“You really think that?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” Hunter amended.

“You ready?” the tattoo artist asked, apparently having finished with her work.

“Born ready,” Hunter confirmed.

He and Fitz didn’t chat much while the actual tattoo was being worked on; Fitz was too mesmerized watching his design come to life, and Hunter was too distracted by having a tiny needle repeatedly jabbed into his skin. He’d had less pleasant experiences in his life (see: being shot), but getting a tattoo still wasn’t a walk in the park. It was bigger than he had expected, too, based on how much of his forearm the tattoo artist was using. Because of the bet Hunter hadn’t been able to check the size or placement of the tattoo without giving the design away, so he had trusted Fitz to approve it. Apparently Fitz wanted him to have a large tattoo to remind him of their friendship - which was almost sweet, if that had really been his intention.

He couldn’t say how long it had been when the tattoo artist finally announced that she was done.

“Well, look at it!” Fitz demanded when Hunter didn’t immediately turn. He shook his head fondly before following the instruction and taking in the sight of the tattoo.

“It’s a lion,” Hunter said once the image registered in his brain. The lion’s face was rendered in simple, deft lines that matched the style of Hunter’s other tattoos perfectly, treading somewhere between minimalism and realism. The winged dagger on Hunter’s bicep, his first tattoo, had been simply rendered because that was all he could afford at the time on an army salary. Even when he’d become more comfortable with a mercenary’s salary he’d stuck with the style as a nod to his first departed friend. Iz and Idaho hadn’t minded picking something in that design when he’d asked them about it, but Hunter’s heart was more than a little warmed by Fitz following the tradition without even being asked.

“Yeah,” Fitz said. “Because, you know…”

“Leo,” Hunter finished with a grin. He was lucky Bob had made him learn about scientific names of animals - not that _Leo_ and _lion_ were hard to connect, even for him. “I love it, mate.”

“You do?” Fitz asked, shoulders relaxing.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Hunter asked. “It’s not like you gave me a portrait of your face or something. Well, kind of, because _Leo_ …”

“That’s what I was worried about,” Fitz said, scratching the back of his neck. “That you would think it was dumb because of my name.”

“Hey, Idaho almost made me get the bloody state tattooed on my arse. At least a lion looks badass.” Hunter’s face fell a moment later when he remembered Idaho wasn’t around to drag him into anything harebrained anymore, but Fitz cocked his head in a way that was oddly more comforting than any physical touch could be. _I see you_ , the little tilt of his head said. _I know you’re hurting, and I see you_.

It was strange to be seen after so long having people look through him.

“Last chance if you want to change your design,” Fitz warned as they worked on switching positions. The artist had to sanitize the area first, which did give Hunter a couple minutes if he wanted them.

He didn’t want to change his design, though. He’d never choose something intentionally bad for Fitz, just like he knew Fitz wouldn’t choose anything horrible for him. That was why they were mates, and why they’d trusted each other with this stupid bet in the first place.

“You want me to hold your hand?” Hunter asked as he handed the design over to the tattooist. He had chosen a pretty painful location for Fitz’s first tattoo, at the nape of his neck where the skin was thin and the bone close to the surface, but Fitz had wanted something easily coverable with short sleeves and there weren’t many locations that fit the bill and were comfortable. Apart from the arse, of course, but Hunter didn’t hate Fitz, so that was out of the question.

His question was said in a slightly joking manner so Fitz could brush it off if he wanted to, but not joking enough that Fitz thought if he really needed the hand-holding Hunter was making fun of him for it.

“Ask me later,” Fitz said drily. 

It turned out Hunter didn’t need to ask; when the time came Fitz simply winced and reached out for him. Hunter took Fitz’s hand in his and squeezed gently. The first tattoo was always the worst since it was… unexpected. There wasn’t really a good metaphor for the burn of the tattoo needles, so even if Fitz had wanted to know what it felt like (and he didn’t) it would’ve been difficult.

When the artist was done with the second tattoo she gave Fitz a mirror and swung him around so he could see the back of his neck.

“That a wolf?” he asked, squinting.

“Yup.” Hunter released Fitz’s hand slowly, giving him the chance to hold back on if he wanted to. He didn’t - he was too busy staring at the tattoo.

“We both gave each other animals,” Fitz said, arching around so he didn’t have to use double mirrors to look at the tattoo (and failing rather spectacularly).

“I thought you might like something a little symbolic. Wolves are very loyal and all.” 

“You’re calling yourself my dog,” Fitz snorted. “You’re loyal to me like a dog.”

“Am not!”

“Are so!”

“Here, puppy!”

“I’m never taking you to get another tattoo ever again,” Hunter grumped. He couldn’t hide his smile, though. He’d rather have Fitz joking about Hunter being his puppy than be upset with the tattoo choice.

“You owe me. I gave you an animal symbolizing _bravery_ , you pillock.” Fitz grinned, but it faded slightly. “And if I wanted another tattoo you’d have to come with me.” He reached up to scratch the back of his neck again but Hunter swatted his hand away before he could accidentally ruin his brand new tattoo. “I couldn’t do this alone.”

“You won’t have to,” Hunter promised. “Come on, let’s pay the nice lady and slather ourselves in Vaseline.”

“I don’t think Bobbi would be very happy with you if you did that.”

“Oi!”

“Heel, puppy.”

Hunter rolled his eyes but followed Fitz up to the front desk for their care instructions and to make their payment. 

The tattoo bet had gone much, much better than expected. 


End file.
